Blatant Lies
by SnarkyMuch2
Summary: Sequel to Hidden Truths, Sam and Dean are moving forward until the past comes up and stops them. Some things are not easily forgotten. Warning: Contains Self-Harm.
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** Blatant Lies

**Author:** Snarkymuch

**Rating:** T

**Genre:** Hurt/Comfort, Angst

**Pairing(s)/Character(s):** Sam, Dean, Hallucifer

**Warnings****:** Self-harm and a continuing theme of past abuse (nothing graphic)

**Spoilers:** Season Seven

**Summary:** Sequel to Hidden Truths, Sam and Dean are moving forward until the past comes up and stops them. Some things are not easily forgotten.

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Blatant Lies - Chapter One

The spirit shoved Sam back. Sam's chest let out a whoosh of air as he hit the brickwork of the fireplace. The spirit came at him again, and he reached feebly for anything that could use as a weapon. His hand fell on the cold iron handle of a fireplace poker. He wrapped his fingers around it and prepared himself to swing.

The spirit charged forward, cool air brushing over Sam as it did. He tightened his grip on the poker, and when it was close enough, he swung. It cut through the spirit, sending it melting away into the air.

Sam took a moment to catch his breath, and he unconsciously brought a hand down to this thigh and rubbed the spot where the cuts once laid. When things became too much to bear, it grounded him. He hadn't cut for over a month. It had been hard, and at times, he thought he wouldn't make it through, but Dean had been there, just like he said he would, helping him through it second by second.

Sam heard a shuffling sound in the next room, and he ran for the door. When he got there, he found Dean pinned by the spirit, shotgun fallen just out of reach. Sam ran over to his side and grabbed the gun, training it on the ghost. With one quick shot, the spirit was gone, but not for good. He would be back. They needed to find his remains and get them salted and burned as soon as possible. Preferably before going another round with him, as both he and Dean were in rough shape.

Sam reached out and gave Dean a hand up, helping him to his feet.

"You okay, bro?" Dean asked as he looked him over from head to toe. Dean's protective streak had been in overdrive since finding out the truth about Sam's childhood months ago.

Sam pressed a palm to the spot on his head where he got hit."Yeah, just took a knock to the head earlier, but I'm okay now."

"You sure? Let me see." Dean was already walking over to him.

"Dean, I'm—"

"Don't even finish that sentence. You know how much I hate the words 'I'm fine.'"

Dean took step closer to Sam and looked into his eyes, checking his pupils. They looked good. He reached up and touched the growing knot on Sam's temple. "Nice one, but I think you'll live. You feel sick to your stomach at all?"

"No, I'm okay, just sore."

Dean nodded and dropped his hand. "I bet. All right, I say we go gank this son of a bitch and get the hell out of here. I don't know about you, but I've had enough fun getting thrown around for one night."

It took them an hour of hunting the cemetery, but they were eventually able to find Old Wiley's remains. They salted and burned them without a problem and then headed back to the motel.

Once there, Sam went about his new routine. He would kick off his shoes and then grab his toiletries bag and head in to the bathroom.

Stripping down, Sam stepped into the shower. The water felt good against his sore muscles. There were times where he needed the water as hot as possible to wash away the feeling of hands on his body, but thankfully today wasn't one of those days. He was okay.

Once he was washed, he stepped out and grabbed his towel. He flipped his head down and dried his hair. When he flipped it back up, he nearly fell to the floor. There, sitting on the toilet seat, was someone he thought was gone from him forever. It was Lucifer. And he was smiling.

"Hey, Sammo," Lucifer chimed. "Long time no see."

Sam looked away, grabbing his boxer shorts and slipping them on.

"No need to hide on my account." Lucifer grinned.

Sam's body was shaking, and he struggled to put on his sweats.

Lucifer's head tilted to the side as he stood up and walked closer. Something had caught his eyes. Sam stumbled back, nearly falling into the shower. "Easy there, Tiger. I was just trying to get a better look at your handiwork."

Sam's hand quickly moved to cover up the mess of scars.

"Nice work, Sammy." Lucifer smiled. "I could have done better though. Maybe next time." He shrugged.

Sam closed his eyes and pressed the scar on his hand and waited. The room went silent, and he nearly cried in relief.

He hesitantly opened his eyes and looked up into the mirror. Lucifer popped up behind his shoulder and smiled, raising his brows. "Peek-a-boo."

"Dean!" Sam called, fumbling for the door. "Dean!"

The door pushed open and Sam stepped back.

"What's wrong?" Dean asked, looking him over from head to toe. Sam knew he was looking for more cuts. "Did you hurt yourself?"

"No, it's … I …" Sam pushed his way past Dean in the living area.

"It's what, Sammy?" Dean could see the panic etched on Sam's features. It terrified him. Dean Didn't know what could have spooked his brother so deeply.

Sam looked back over his shoulder at the bathroom, swallowing hard. Lucifer was gone. "It's nothing … just some bad memories."

"Was it about him again?" Dean hated saying the clown's name. He didn't like to think of him as a human because in his eyes he wasn't. No one who could hurt his brother like that was human.

Sam shook his head, gaze still locked on the bathroom. Dean brought a hand up and cupped Sam's cheek, forcing him to look away.

"Sam, talk to me. We had a deal. We were going to talk about this stuff. No more hiding."

"Yeah, yeah, no more hiding," Sam breathed. "You're right."

"Good. Now what did you see, Sammy? What's got you so spooked?"

"He's back, Dean."

"Who's back, Sammy?"

Sam's eyes pricked with tears. "Lucifer. He's back. I saw him."

Dean's mouth went dry, and he momentarily lost the ability to speak.

"I don't understand, Sam," Dean said finally. "What do you mean he's back? Back where? Can you see him now?" Dean looked around the room like somehow he might be able to see him too.

Sam shook his head. "He was there when I got out of the shower. He was smiling, Dean. Smiling."

Sam was near hyperventilating now, and Dean knew he had to do something to calm him. "Sam, you need to take a few slow breaths for me. You're going to make yourself sick."

Sam nodded mutely, and Dean placed a hand on his chest. "Feel my hand? I want you to focus on it. Feel me. Now take a breath, nice and slow. Now let it out."

Dean repeated the steps again and again until Sam's breathing was under control.

"That's good, Sammy."

Once Sam was calm, Dean went over to the duffel and dug through it. He pulled out a bottle of pills. Opening them, he shook one out into his hand.

He walked back over to Sam and handed him the pill. "Just something to take the edge off."

Sam didn't argue. He just took the pill and popped it into his mouth. It began to dissolve before Dean could hand him a glass of water. Sam face scrunched up in distaste.

He took the water from Dean and rinsed the taste from his mouth.

He walked over to the bed and took a seat, resting his head in his hands. He was already beginning to doubt his sanity. Had he really seen Lucifer? Was it just some horrible flashback? He didn't know, and it scared him.

Dean came over to the bed and sat down beside Sam. He gently placed a hand on Sam's back and began rubbing circles, trying to ease the tension he could see in his brother's frame.

Dean worked his hand up to the nape of Sam's neck and began rubbing softly. "Is the pill working?"

Sam nodded. "Yeah, a little, I guess."

"Are you sure you saw him?" Dean asked quietly.

"I don't know. I guess maybe it was just a memory, but it felt so real."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Sam shook his head. "I'm okay now."

"Good. Then why don't you lie down for a while, let the pill work?"

Sam swallowed and nodded. "Yeah, probably should."

Dean got up and Sam lay down on the bed, curling up on top of the covers. He slid his arm under the pillow and drew it close to him, fingers digging into the soft fabric.

He woke with a start hours later. It was dark, the room only faintly lit by the parking lot lights outside. He looked around the room, needing to assure himself that he was really awake. The nightmares were so real, twisted memories played out in the fires of hell. He drew a shaky breath and let it out slowly.

He scrubbed a hand over his face and pushed himself up in the bed. He looked over at the other bed; Dean was sound asleep, dead to the world.

Sam walked over to the window and looked out, thinking back to his dreams. The blood, the pain, the touching. It made his skin crawl and he shivered. He wished he was past the memories of what the man had done to him, but he wasn't. They were still sharp and vivid, and they played behind his eyelids like a horror movie.

Sam heard a tapping noise coming from somewhere nearby, and he tensed. Without turning his head, he could see the gun by the door. The tapping grew louder and Sam dove for the gun. He grabbed it and pulled it up, spinning to face the sound. And there he was again, Lucifer, grinning as he tapped a pen against the table.

Dean stirred in the bed but thankfully didn't wake. Careful not to make a sound, he placed the gun back down against the wall.

"Those were some interesting dreams you had there, Sammy," Lucifer said. "Some of our best times—"

"Shut up. You're not real," Sam snapped.

Lucifer rolled his eyes. "Please, Sam. We all know the truth. I'm as real as you let me be. And we all know how much that is."

Sam looked away, hoping he if he ignored him long enough he would just disappear. "So tell me, Sam, I have to know, who was that other man in your dream? The clown. You seemed more afraid of him than me. We can't have that now, can we?"

Sam swallowed hard and stumbled back towards the bed. When his knees hit it, he collapsed back and sat. He was shaking now and it made Lucifer chuckle. Sam pressed feebly against the scar on his hand, but it only made Lucifer laugh harder.

"You're going to need more than that old trick." Lucifer got up and walked over to the bed, looking down at Sammy with a frown. He squatted down and brought a hand up to touch Sam's thigh. Sam jumped back and squeezed his eyes shut, trying to will him away.

"You know what you have to do, Sammy." Lucifer dug a thumb into the old scars. "It's just a cut, right? Dean wouldn't even have to know."

The pressure on Sam's leg disappeared and Sam opened his eyes; Lucifer was gone. But the urge to cut was back with a vengeance. He didn't think he could control it, but he knew he had to try. He couldn't fail Dean; he couldn't fail himself.

Tears began to roll down Sam's cheeks, and he wiped them away.

Dean grumbled and stretched. He blinked tiredly and looked over at Sam. His eyes went wide when he saw the tears, and he jumped out of bed to kneel in front of Sam. Sam hung his head, letting his hair fall like a curtain to shield his eyes.

Dean ran a hand through Sam's hair, tucking it up behind his ears. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, just a nightmare. I'm good now."

"You sure, you don't look what I'd call good."

"No, I'm okay. Just shook up."

"You want to talk about it? Do you _need _to talk about it?"

"No, no I think I'm all right. Don't worry Dean. I'd tell you if it was something bad."

Dean drew a breath and then nodded. "Okay, I trust you. It's still early, so why don't you try to get a bit more shuteye."

Dean ruffled Sam's hair as he got up and walked the few steps back over to his bed.

"Goodnight, Sam."

"Night."

Sam lay back in the bed, curling up on his side. He looked out toward the window and watched the passing headlights of cars as they flickered through the room. He yawned and closed his eyes, but not for long. Hell flashed behind them moments later, jolting him awake. He blinked and looked around the room. He felt so tired, so out of control; he needed to do something.

His eyes fell on Lucifer. He was back, or maybe he had never gone, but instead of looking mocking, he looked sympathetic. He smiled sadly at Sam.

"It's okay, Sammy," he said, holding the penknife out for Sam. "You need this."

Sam wasn't sure where Lucifer had found the knife. Sam had assumed it had been in Dean's bag, but he hadn't looked before to find out. Dean trusted him, and he didn't want to break that trust.

Sam got out of the bed and walked over to Lucifer, snatching the knife from him.

Holding the knife gave him a mixture of excitement and guilt, but the one thing it didn't make him was happy. Happiness never really did play a part in the equation.

Part of his mind was taunting him now. It would be so easy to do it. The knife was in his hand. Dean was asleep. It would only be one cut. It was so tempting. He might have done it if it weren't for the devil sitting in the corner, smiling like the Cheshire Cat.

"Make it pretty, Sam."

Sam shook his head, trying to dispel the thoughts. He couldn't do this. He couldn't let Lucifer get to him. He couldn't let the past get to him. Making a decision, Sam crept over to Dean's duffel. He unzipped it slowly, trying to keep the noise down. Once open, he stuck the knife back inside and closed it again.

He stood and turned to face Lucifer. "You won't win."

Lucifer frowned. "If I had feelings, they'd be hurt."

Sam walked over to Dean's bed and gave him a nudge. "Dean, wake up."

Dean snuffled and then rolled over to face Sam. He blinked wearily. "What's wrong now?"

"Dean, I need to … you know …" Sam said. "I don't know if I can stop myself."

"Whoa, okay. Hang on." Dean pushed himself up in the bed. "What can I do?"

"Just sit up with me until it passes."

"Yeah, yeah, I can do that." Dean scrubbed a hand over his face. "How bad is it on a scale of one to ten?"

"You mean the urge?"

"Yeah," Dean said.

"About a seven."

"Can I ask what set you off?"

"Just thinking too much." He glanced over at the table where Lucifer sat, biting his nails and spitting out the pieces on the carpet. "You ever feel something is so real you can't tell where the truth ends and the dreams begin?"

"Yeah, a few times, after I got back from Hell. It's not easy, Sam, but I promise things will get better. We'll get past what happened."

Dean got up and walked over to his duffel, pulling out the same small bottle of pills as before. He shook one out into his hand and then walked over to the small fridge.

Sam glanced over at the devil, who was wearing an odd expression; he looked intrigued. "Get past what, Sammy?" Lucifer stood and walked over to stand in front of Sam. "You can tell me. I'm not all bad."

Sam scowled at him. "Shut up."

"What's that, Sam?" Dean asked, looking over his shoulder.

"Nothing, just clearing my throat."

Lucifer tilted his head to the side. "I'll find out you know. I can wiggle my finger around in that brain of yours and pry it out."

Dean came back with a pill in his head. "Two in one day. I guess we could call this a rough patch."

Sam smiled wanly. "Thanks."

Sam popped the pill and chased it back with the bottle of water Dean passed him.

"I'm feeling a little better. I think I am going to try to sleep it off."

"All right. I'm going to stay up just in case you need something."

Sam knew Dean didn't trust him not to hurt himself, and he couldn't blame him. Not after everything they'd been through.

Lucifer knelt down in front of Sam, his face pained. "I don't like not knowing, Sammy." He reached up and brushed the hair out of Sam's eyes. "You're keeping secrets from me and I don't like it."


	2. Chapter 2

Blatant Lies —Chapter Two

When Sam woke up the next morning, he half expected to see Lucifer perched on his bed, but thankfully, he didn't. Instead, the room was quiet, except for a soft bustling coming from the kitchenette. Sam blinked wearily and looked around. Dean was making coffee. He breathed a sigh of relief as Lucifer was nowhere in sight.

Sam watched as he poured two cups and then turned, carrying them towards Sam. Yawning, Sam stretched and pushed himself up in the bed.

"Coffee?" Dean asked.

"Sure." Sam rubbed the sleep from his eyes. "What time is it?"

"Seven thirty."

"And you're up?" Sam said with raised brow.

Dean shrugged. "It's a nice morning. Thought I'd get a start to the day."

Dean wasn't going to tell Sam that he'd spent the night watching his little brother like a hawk, worried over every twitch that he might wake up and want to hurt himself. Dean knew the signs, and the pills could only do so much. Sam was falling apart, and Dean couldn't hold him together.

Dean offered Sam a mug of coffee, and Sam took it. "Thanks."

"Don't thank me until you try it." Dean nodded to the cup. "I'm pretty sure it's going to taste like tar. The coffee expired last year."

Sam took a sip and then grimaced. Dean was right; it tasted awful.

Dean took a seat on the bed opposite Sam. "So, yesterday …"

"Yeah, it was rough." Sam ran a hand through his hair.

Dean nodded. "How are you doing now?"

Sam looked over his shoulder, half expecting Lucifer to pop up at any moment. He looked back at Dean. "I'm okay. My head's a little clearer."

"That's good." Dean took a sip of his coffee, nearly choking on the taste. "This is awful."

Sam smirked. "Better than nothing though."

Dean smirked and then his face went serious. "So I was thinking… Are you up for a hunt?"

Sam wrapped his hands around the mug, letting the warmth ground him. "Why, you find something?"

Dean got up and walked over to the table, grabbing the paper. "Get this. There were three animal attacks all in the same night, all in the same area. Plus, there was a full moon. I think we're looking at a werewolf."

Sam took the proffered paper and read the article Dean had circled. "Yeah, you're right. It does look like our kind of thing. So when do you want to head out?"

Dean took another sip of his coffee and shrugged. "Whenever you're ready. There's no real rush. We've got till the next full moon to find him."

Two hours later, they were dressed and packing. Dean watched Sam gather their things. Something seemed off about him, and Dean didn't like it. Maybe it was the way he kept looking over his shoulder, like he expected someone to jump out at any moment.

"There, I think that's it." Sam zipped the duffel closed. "You ready?"

Dean pulled himself from his thoughts. "Yeah, I'm good. If we shag ass, we can be there by tonight."

Sam tossed the bags into the trunk and then walked over to the passenger side door, getting in.

Dean started the car and they pulled away from the motel.

Sam watched out the window at the passing scenery. His mind wandered over the last few days and how close he'd come to letting Dean down, how close he'd come to cutting. He'd had the knife in his hand. It would have been so easy to cut.

Sam closed his eyes and leaned his head against the cool glass. There was a faint humming in the background that he couldn't place. At first, he felt it soothing and then it began to change. The more he concentrated on it, the louder it became. Soon the humming was clear. It was familiar and haunting. It reminded him of a lullaby, something a mother might hum to her child. It sent shivers down his spine.

Something about the tone disturbed him. It was too sweet. He opened his eyes and looked to Dean, expecting to see him humming, but he wasn't. He was drumming his fingers on the steering wheel to a completely different tune.

Sam swallowed and dared to look over his shoulder. What he saw made his heart jump in his chest. Lucifer was back, sitting in the backseat like he belonged there, humming as he toyed with the demon knife.

He caught Sam looking and smiled up at him. "Hello, Samuel."

Sam's eyes went wide, and he quickly looked away.

Dean glanced over at him, concerned. "You okay?"

Sam licked his lips and nodded. He could feel himself shaking. "Yeah, I'm okay."

"You don't look okay."

Sam glanced back over his shoulder at the backseat. Lucifer was still there, still smiling, and still twirling the knife in his hands. Sam drew a shaky breath and looked back toward the road. He could do this. He could handle this. He just needed to focus. He pressed his hand against the scars on his leg and closed his eyes. He felt the car slow and then come to a stop.

"Sam," Dean breathed, "you're scaring me. What's going on? You gotta talk to me."

Sam could feel a cool air touch his neck and it made him cringe.

"You're so tense. You know what you need to do," Lucifer whispered against his neck.

Sam hated to admit it, but Lucifer was right. Sam knew what he needed. His hand pressed harder against the scars.

"Sam, talk to me dammit!" Dean commanded.

Dean looked down at Sam's hand and saw how he was digging his fingers into his thigh right where the cuts once laid. He reached down and wrapped his fingers around Sam's wrist and drew his hand away. "Easy, Sam. Whatever it is, we can handle it. Just talk to me," Dean pleaded.

Sam squeezed his eyes shut and tried to block out the feeling of Lucifer breathing on his neck.

"Yeah, Sammy. Tell him all about it. How you want to slice yourself up. How you miss the feeling of the blade in your hand."

Sam swallowed. "I'm okay, Dean. I'm all right."

Dean didn't believe him, not even close. It was clear Sam was lying. Sam was not okay. He was shaking badly and there were beads of sweat on his forehead; he kept swallowing like his throat had gone dry.

Dean held onto Sam's wrist, keeping his hand away from his thigh. He rubbed his thumb back and forth over his wrist, trying to soothe him. Dean didn't know what to say or do. He hated seeing Sam like this.

Sam sucked in a shaky breath and then looked over at Dean. "I'm okay, Dean. I just got stuck in my head for minute."

Lucifer chuckled and leaned back in the seat. "You're such a little liar, Sammy. I love it."

Sam cringed at the devil's words. He didn't want Lucifer to be right about anything, but he was right about this. He was a liar, and a blatant one at that. But he couldn't tell Dean the truth. There was no way he could. It would scare him too much to know how crazy Sam had become.

Dean gave Sam's a wrist a gentle squeeze and then let it go. "You're not alone, Sam. You know that, right?"

Sam nodded. "I know."

"Good." Dean shifted the car back into drive. "That's good. And you know, if you need to talk—"

"I know," Sam cut him off. "I know."

"Okay." Dean nodded and then pulled back onto the road.

They spent the next hour in silence, or at least Dean did. Sam listened to Lucifer, who spent the time whispering dark reminders of hell into Sam's ear.

"I saw him again in your dreams last night," Lucifer said casually as the car pulled to a stop. "I saw his face, painted in makeup. I saw him touching you."

Sam ignored him. He got out of the car and unlocked the trunk as Dean went to the motel office to pay.

"If I had been free, if I'd had the chance, I would have killed him." Lucifer leaned into Sam's line of sight. "I would never have let him hurt you. You're mine, Sammy."

Sam shivered at his words. He took a breath, trying to steady himself. He reached into the trunk and pulled out their bags.

Dean came walking out of the office, room key in hand. "Thirteen," he said nodding down the walkway.

Sam nodded and headed toward the room.

Once inside, Sam tossed the bags at the foot of the bed and kicked off his shoes.

"Not so fast, Sam," Dean said, "I'm starving so put 'em back on. We're going out."

"Dean, I'm beat." Sam pulled off his socks. "I'm not going out."

"Well, tough. I'm not leaving you here alone, so get dressed."

Lucifer walked up behind Dean and frowned. "I think he means it, Sam."

"I'll be all right. I promise," Sam said.

Dean didn't like the idea of leaving Sam alone. He wanted to trust him, but something in his gut told him otherwise. He forced himself to push the feeling aside. Scrubbing a hand over his face, Dean sighed. "What do you want to eat then?"

"Whatever, nothing too greasy though."

Dean grabbed the keys from the table. "I won't be long."

Sam sat on the bed staring at the crappy motel TV, trying to ignore the fallen angel as he tossed a knife between his hands.

"You can't go on like this, Sammy," the devil said. "We both know it. You know what you need."

Sam refused to acknowledge him. Instead, he focused on the infomercial playing on the TV.

"I know you can feel it, that niggling tug at the back of your mind. That little flame of desire to hurt. It's there, Sam. All you need to do is give in. You can't confine yourself like this; it's not healthy."

Sam closed his eyes and drew a breath, letting it out slowly.

"You can almost taste it, can't you? That feeling of exhilaration, that rush of endorphins. You can't deny it."

Sam held his head in his hands. "Stop."

Sam gritted his teeth, hard. Before he realized it, he was pulling his hair at the roots. The pain felt good, but it only took a second for the guilt to wash over him, and he dropped his hands. He looked at the clock. Dean should be back at any time. He only had to make it a little longer.

Sam got up and began to pace the room.

Lucifer tossed himself down on the bed with a huff. "You're so stubborn."

The door locked clicked and then the door swung open. Sam had to stop himself from tears at the sight of Dean.

Dean looked around the room, not sure what he was seeing. Sam looked ready to fall apart. Dean looked around the room for the cause but saw nothing.

He kicked the door shut and quickly tossed the bag of food down on the table. He immediately went to Sam's side. He reached up and placed a hand on each of his brother's shoulders.

"Hey, look at me," Dean said, ducking his head so he was in Sam's line of vision. "What's going on?"

Sam rubbed his palm against his jeans. He wanted to tell Dean everything, but he couldn't. Dean had enough to worry about.

"Nothing, I just saw something on TV. It set me off. I'm good now."

Dean's brow furrowed in confusion, and he looked over at TV and the program on it. "Sam, it's an infomercial on oven mitts. Try again."

Sam stepped back, having Dean so close was making it hard to think.

"If you're thinking of lying again, I would think twice. I know something's up, so just spill it."

Sam plonked down on the bed and rested his head in his hand. After a moment, he looked up at Dean.

"Go ahead, Sam. Tell him you're seeing the devil," the fallen angel chimed. "I can't wait to see the look on his face."

Sam glanced over at Lucifer and then back at Dean. He shook his head. "No, Dean. It's really nothing. I'm fine. I promise." Sam looked up Dean pleadingly. "Just let it go, please?"

Dean ran a hand through his hair. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I wouldn't lie to you."


	3. Chapter 3

Warning: This chapter contains self-harm.

Blatant Lies - Chapter Three

Sam fell asleep that night to the sound of Lucifer's humming. It was the furthest thing from comfort. In fact, it sent chills down Sam's spine, but he couldn't fight his eyelids any longer. He had to sleep.

Sleep didn't find him well though. He tossed and turned, in and out of nightmares. Flashbacks of hell mixed with memories of Plucky's. Painful touches, harsh hands, stirred him to wakefulness through the night. And the one thing that stood out through all the pain was Lucifer. He watched from the distance, like a part of his mind, wrapped around his dreams. It was like he was never alone anymore.

When he woke the next morning, he felt like shit. His body ached and his head hurt, but he forced himself awake. Yawning, he stretched and pushed himself out of bed. He could hear Dean's soft snoring in the other bed.

"Morning, Sam," Lucifer chimed. "Sleep well?"

Sam glanced over at him and then looked away. He knew it wasn't healthy to acknowledge your hallucinations, but it was hard to avoid Lucifer. He had a way of worming himself into your reality, making himself a fixture in the room. Sam knew he had to do everything in his power to fight him.

Sam walked over to the other bed and nudged Dean's leg, not wanting to be alone with the devil any longer. "Dean, wake up."

Dean started, grabbing his knife from the under the pillow. He looked around the room wildly until his gaze fell on Sam, who looked like shit. He had dark circles beneath his eyes and looked like he could drop at any moment.

"What's wrong?"

Sam wasn't going to tell him that the devil was already smiling at him this morning, watching him like a cat does a mouse. So instead he said, "Nothing's wrong, just thought you'd want up."

Dean tossed the knife back down on the bed and stretched. "Yeah, thanks." Dean rubbed his eyes and pushed himself up out of bed. "Coffee?"

"I can make some now." Sam walked over to the kitchenette and began to make coffee.

Lucifer got up and walked over to Sam, peering over his shoulder. Sam swallowed. He could feel his skin prickling with the coolness that emanated from the fallen angel.

Sam tried his best to ignore the curious angel and go about making coffee like nothing was wrong. Taking a breath, Sam steadied his nerves and forced himself to finish the simple task.

Dean watched Sam with a hawk-like gaze. There was something very wrong with Sam. His shoulders looked tight and his frame rigid. It was like he was terrified to move. He wished Sam would just talk to him, tell him what was wrong. Whatever it was, Dean was sure they could fix it together.

A few hours later, they were dressed and ready to investigate the werewolf attacks. They both piled into the car and headed out towards the hospital to see the bodies for themselves.

It was another three and a half weeks till the next full moon, and they hoped they could track this thing down by then.

When they arrived at the hospital, they got out of the car and straightened their suits. They made their way inside and down to the basement to the morgue.

They passed a small office with a placard on the door. It read: Dr. Hancock.

The boys looked at each other and then the door. Dean shrugged and Sam reached up to knock.

A moment later a husky male voice bellowed from inside. "It's open."

Dean opened the door and stepped inside. They were greeted by an older man with a scruffy beard wearing a white coat. He looked worn out. The man looked Sam and Dean up and down and then crossed his arms, leaning back in his chair.

"Let me guess, FBI?"

Sam stepped forward. "Yes, that's right. We're here about the recent animal attacks."

"And why is the FBI interested in that?"

Dean stepped forward. "I'm afraid we can't discuss the details of the case."

"Hmm." The doctor studied them for a moment. "All right. What can I do for you then?"

"Are the bodies still here?" Sam asked.

"Sorry, they're long gone. I've got the reports though. You're welcome to them." The doctor pushed himself up from his chair and made his way over to his filing cabinet. He pulled it open and rummaged through. With a little triumphant noise, he pulled out a handful of files.

"Here you go," he said.

"Thanks," Dean said as he took the proffered files. "We'll be in touch if we have any more questions."

The old doctor shook his head. "Still not sure what you're looking for, but good luck to you."

They left the office and made their way back to the car.

When they got there, Sam froze. Lucifer was already there, sitting the backseat, looking pleased with himself.

Dean saw Sam freeze. "What's wrong?"

Lucifer raised his brows.

"Nothing," Sam said, glancing back at Dean. "Let's go."

Sam got into the car and tossed the files into the backseat beside Lucifer, who picked them up immediately with interest.

Dean started the car and pulled away from the hospital. Sam tried to block out the devil in the backseat as he described the blood and gore of the photos in a delighted tone.

"Look at the rips and tears of the flesh. Look at the way it pulled back from the bone."

Sam swallowed and looked out the window, trying to focus on anything but the sound of Lucifer's voice.

"It's really beautiful. The way the human body gives so easily to the cut of a claw or blade. Isn't that right, Sam?"

Sam drew a breath and let it out slowly. It was only a few more minute's ride until they were back at the motel. Sam had to only hold it together a few minutes longer. Then he could retreat to the bathroom where he could fall apart in peace, not under the watchful eye of his brother.

As soon as the car pulled to a stop outside the motel, Sam flew out of the car.

"Sam?" Dean called after him.

Sam waved him off. "I need the bathroom."

Dean shook his head and reached into the backseat, grabbing the files and bringing them inside.

Sam slammed the door closed on the bathroom and leaned against the door.

He let himself slide down to the floor. He drew his knees up and wrapped his arms around his head protectively.

There was a knock at the door and Sam raised his head. "Yeah."

"You all right in there?"

"Yeah, I'm fine."

"Good, then I'm going to get started on these files."

Sam listened and heard the soft sound of footsteps moving away from his little safe haven. He sighed, running a hand through his hair.

There was a soft plinking noise and Sam looked up. Unsurprisingly, it was Lucifer. It had become such a common thing now it was painful. He was standing, leaned against the sink. His face was drawn and his eyes soft. He looked at Sam with sympathy he didn't think the devil capable of. It was all wrong.

The fallen angel walked over to him and kneeled down on the floor. He extended a hand slowly, like he might frighten Sam. He brushed his fingertips over Sam's temple. Sam pulled away from the touch.

"I don't want to hurt you, Sam," Lucifer said softly. "I only want what's best for you."

Sam pushed himself up and away from the devil. He walked over to the sink and turned on the tap, splashing cool water on his face. He turned to grab a towel when he saw it, the abandoned razor. It was just like it had started. A simple razor in the wrong place at the wrong time. Maybe it was fate.

He glanced over at the fallen angel who nodded approvingly.

Sam didn't have the energy to fight him any longer. He grabbed the razor and ran his thumb over the sharp blades. He twisted the blade and broke free the blades from the plastic. He picked one up and looked at it glint in the light.

It was so tiny but so much power ran through it into him. His hands shook a bit and the guilt was threatening to overtake him.

"It's okay, Sam," Lucifer said. "You need it."

Sam swallowed hard and nodded. He unbuttoned his pants and let them fall; he lifted the leg of his boxers up and aligned the blade with the scars. He licked at his lips and took a breath. His hands were shaking.

The moment the blade broke the skin it was like a dam broke inside Sam. But the harder he pressed the blade into his skin the more control he gained. He pushed back the tide of emotion and cut again. Tears rolled down his cheeks. This wasn't what he wanted. Guilt overcame him and he dropped the blade. He had let Dean down again.

He pressed a hand to the freely bleeding wounds on his leg. What was he going to do? He looked over where Lucifer had been but he was gone.

The blood seeped from between his fingers and he sobbed. He was alone.

There was a knock at the door and Sam looked up.

"Sam? How you doing in there? It's been nearly an hour," Dean said.

Sam shook his head and tears flowed down his cheeks. He choked back a sob. He couldn't let Dean see him like this. "I'm okay," he managed.

"Sam, I'm coming in."

"No! Don't!"

The door opened without further hesitation.

Dean wasn't sure what to expect when he opened the door, but the sight that he met sucked the air from his lungs. Sam was standing hunched, hand over a bleeding wound, tears streaking down his face.

"Jesus, Sammy," Dean charged forward and put a hand on Sam's face, wiping the tears with his thumbs.

Sam shook his head. "I'm sorry, Dean. I don't know … It just happened. I…"

"Shh, it's okay, Sammy. Let me look." Dean kneeled down in front of Sam and lifted Sam's hand away from the cuts.

Dean felt sick at what he saw. The cuts were deep, deeper than the ones he'd made in the past and bleeding heavily. He needed to get pressure applied quickly.

He grabbed a towel and pressed it hard to the wounds. "Sam, I'm going to need to stitch these up. Can you hold this towel and make it to the bed?"

Sam nodded.

"Good. Come on. I'll help you."

Dean guided him to the bed and then hurried over to his duffel and pulled out their makeshift first aid kit.

"All right, Sam." Dean sat down on the edge of the bed. "Let's take a look."

Dean lifted the towel and looked closely at the damage. He was right. These were the worst cuts yet.

Sam sniffled and wiped at his eyes. "I'm so sorry, Dean."

Dean wanted to say that it was okay, that he wasn't mad or hurt, but it would be a lie. "Why didn't you come to me?"

Sam looked down at the cuts and shook his head. "I don't know."

Dean had to take a breath to keep his anger at bay. "That's not an excuse, Sammy. You really did some damage this time."

Dean opened the kit and grabbed some gauze. He dabbed at the cuts. He reached grabbed the alcohol and looked at Sam. "Ready?"

Sam looked down at him and nodded. Dean poured the alcohol over the cuts. Sam reveled in the burn. It made everything else disappear for a moment.

"I should be able to stitch these up pretty easy," Dean said, putting the bottle away and grabbing the needle and thread. "Do you want me to numb it?"

Sam shook his head. He wanted to feel every bit of it. He deserved it for what he'd done.

"Okay, can you lie down? It will make this easier."

Sam nodded and laid back. At the first tug of thread, Sam's eyes began to tear. "I'm sorry, Dean."

"I know, Sam." Dean sighed. "I know."

* * *

**~Please let me know what you think. Reviews are love and feed my muse.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Blatant Lies - Chapter Four**

Dean stood over the bed and watched the steady rise and fall of Sam's chest. He couldn't believe that Sam had done so much damage. It scared him how easily it could have been worse.

He wanted nothing more than to take away his brother's pain.

Sam snuffled and rolled over. Dean saw him wince in his sleep. He knew his leg had to be hurting. The cuts hadn't needed many stitches, but they were bad enough.

Dean reached down and grabbed the blanket from the foot of the bed and laid it over Sam. He tucked it around him.

Satisfied Sam was settled, Dean went to the table and grabbed the bottle of whiskey. He took a long pull from the bottle and bit back a grimace as it washed down his throat.

They needed to talk, whether Sam wanted to or not. They couldn't keep going on like this.

Dean put the bottle down and walked over to his bed. He wasn't sure he could sleep, but he had to try. There was a lot to face in the morning.

Morning came and Sam woke up. The skin of his leg felt tight and ached. And as much as he didn't want to admit it, he welcomed the feeling. It grounded him and kept a lid on all the emotions he couldn't otherwise handle.

He raked a hand over his face and looked over to the other bed. Dean was already sitting up, watching him. He glanced around the rest of the room. There was no Lucifer and Sam breathed a sigh of relief.

"Hey," Sam said.

"We need to talk, Sam."

Sam's stomach dropped. He didn't want to talk. He didn't want to face what had happened. He felt like curling up in a ball and pulling the blankets over his head. Anything not to have to face this.

Sam pushed himself up in the bed, keeping his gaze averted. "I know."

"Why didn't you come to me? I could have helped you."

"It just happened so fast. I didn't have time to think."

"Bullshit, Sam. You were acting sketchy since we left the morgue."

Sam licked at his lips and sighed. "Yeah, I know. I should've said something. I'm sorry."

"So talk to me now. Tell me about what happened, what you were feeling."

Sam's mind flashed back to Lucifer's grinning face and he shuddered. He didn't know what to say. Should he tell Dean about Lucifer? If he did, what would Dean think? Would he want to lock him away?

"Sammy?" Dean's voice pulled him from his thoughts, and he looked up, meeting Dean's gaze.

Sam took a deep breath and wrung his hands, biting at his lower lip. He didn't want to do this. He wished Dean would stop staring at him like that and let this go, but he knew his brother wouldn't. He should have never cut.

Dean could see Sam was struggling with the conversation, but he had to push forward, for Sam's sake. They needed to clear the air.

"What are you hiding?"

Sam's eyes snapped to Dean's. "Hiding? I'm not hiding anything," he said a bit too quickly.

"Don't bother with the lies, Sam. I know you too well. Please, talk to me. Trust me, whatever it is, I won't judge you. I just want to help. Come on, Sam. Do this for me. Let me help you."

Sam closed his eyes and sighed, and then he looked back at Dean. "Remember I said I saw him … Lucifer I mean."

"Yeah you said you saw him, like a flashback right?"

Sam shook his head. "I thought so at first, but then he came back." Sam swallowed. "And he kind of stuck around."

Dean blinked and sucked in a breath. "Okay, go on."

"He taunted me, showed me things in my dreams. He … he tried to get me to cut. And last night, I gave in."

"Shit, Sam…" Dean raked a hand through his hair. "You know he's not real right?"

Sam looked away and shrugged. "I guess, but it's hard to tell sometimes when he's so close and saying things so real, so true. It gets all mixed up in my head."

"Is he here now?"

Sam shook his head. "I haven't seen him since last night. He just disappeared as soon as I … you know … cut," Sam admitted shamefully.

"You think the pain made him go away?"

Sam shrugged a shoulder. "It makes sense."

Dean nodded. "Okay, okay. We'll get through this, all right? You just need to promised me something, no more lying. If Lucifer comes back, you have to promise me you will tell me so I can help you. Even if I need to hold your hands to stop you from cutting, I will. Whatever you need, okay?"

Sam bit and his lip and nodded. "Okay."

Sam got dressed, carefully avoiding catching the gauze on his leg as he put on his pants. He thought back to the conversation with Dean. He knew he could trust Dean, but asking for help wasn't something Winchesters did easily.

Once dressed, he met Dean at the table where Dean already had the laptop open and was working on the case.

"Get this, I don't think we're dealing with a werewolf."

Sam frowned. "Why not?"

"Because there was another death just outside of town last night, same M.O. and there wasn't a full moon."

"Damn. So, what do you think it is?"

"From what I can piece together, we're dealing with a skinwalker."

"Great, that should make things harder. It can be anyone, take any form. We're back at square one."

"Awesome."

They gathered their things and headed out into town. They needed to start interviewing some of these people and maybe, with any luck, they'd find a connection between them all.

They started at the latest killing.

"Agent Simmons and Agent Frehley," Dean said to the officer cording off the scene as they flipped open their badges. "FBI."

The young officer looked perplexed. "FBI? What's the feds got to do with an animal attack?"

Dean smiled tightly. "Official business, afraid I can't disclose the details."

The officer frowned. "Right then, well, the body is just around the tree over there," he said, gesturing to the side. "It's a bit messy though. Hope you don't mind a little blood on your shoes."

They made their way over to the scene and they both cringed back at the damage. It was grisly. The chest of the young woman was torn open, and from the looks of things, her heart was missing.

Sam crouched down, wincing a bit at the pain in his leg, and grabbed a nearby stick. Using the twig, he pushed the torn, bloody fabric to the side. "Look at these scratches, Dean. This is definitely our guy."

Dean nodded. "Yep, nice and gruesome."

Dean walked around the scene, looking for clues. He stumbled on a paw print and knelt down. It was huge, bigger than your average dog or coyote. Its claws had dug deep into the earth.

"Whatever it is, it's got big feet."

Sam looked over his shoulder to where Dean was. "Yeah, I think I found a piece of claw stuck in her rib."

Sam cringed in disgust as he pulled the claw from between her ribs. He held it up to Dean with between bloody fingers.

"Damn, that's huge."

Sam turned the claw in his hand. "Yeah, that's what I was thinking. Whatever this thing is shifting into, it's nothing to play around with. We're going to have to be careful."

"Agreed. Now let's go have a talk with the living. See if we can't connect some dots."

Six hours later, they were exhausted and hungry. They headed back to the motel having learned all they could about the people of the rinky-dink town. It seemed the only thing they all had in common was they went to same bar.

The sun was beginning to set as they entered the room.

"I say we change and shag ass to the bar before it gets any later. Don't need someone else becoming puppy chow," Dean said.

"We don't know it's a dog."

"Did you look at those prints? I think we're after a giant dog."

"Well, whatever it is, we better hurry up and get out there before it takes another victim."

They changed out of their suits and put on some casual clothes.

"Ready?" Dean asked, looking Sam over.

Sam rubbed a hand over where the cuts lay. "Yeah, let's go."

Dean nodded. "After you."

The bar was quiet when they arrived. Only a few men littered the room. They looked around and took a seat at the bar. This thing could be anyone, and it made it all that much more challenging. Everyone in there looked suspicious.

"What can I get you boys?" the young waitress said from behind the bar.

"Two beers," Dean said, smiling.

"No problem, hon," she winked and bent down, pulling out two bottles from the cooler. "Haven't seen you boys in here before. You from around these parts?"

Sam raised his brow. "We're just passing through."

"Well, that's a shame. This place could use more pretty faces like you own."

Sam blushed and ducked his head. Dean just smirked and looked the waitress over.

There was a bustling noise and then the bar door swung open. A crowd of people filtered in.

The waitress shook her head and wiped her hands on her bar rag. "Well, shit."

Dean looked over his shoulder at the rowdy crew. "Friends of yours?"

The waitress huffed. "They're nothing but trouble. Ever since they came to town, things have been crazy."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, four of my best patrons have died since they started coming 'round."

"I thought the police said they were animal attacks," Sam said.

She shook her head and shrugged. "I don't know what the police are saying, I just know what I see. Someone leaves with them, and the next day, they're dead."

Dean and Sam exchanged a look of concern.

"You thinking what I'm thinking?" Dean asked.

"Yeah, let's go."

They made their way over to the rowdy group. There were five of them, a mix of men and women. Dean clapped a hand on one of the men's backs. "Hey, guys, there room for two more in your little party?"

The strangers all exchanged dark glances and the taller of them, a man with a dark beard, stepped forward and smiled, extending a hand. "The name's Jeff, and you are?"

"Dean, and this is my brother Sam." Dean shook his proffered hand. It felt cool in his own.

Sam took a breath and nodded. "Hey."

The way the strangers looked at them sent shivers down Sam's spine. It was like they were sizing up a good meal, and Sam had an idea that's exactly what they were doing.

A woman in the group came over to Dean and slid up behind him, nuzzling the side of his neck. Dean shrugged her off the best he could.

"I say we take this party elsewhere," she said as she twirled around in front of them. "There's so much I want to show you." She licked her lips.

Dean sucked in a breath and looked her over. "Lead the way."

They followed the group out of the bar, and the last thing Sam saw as they stepped out of the door was the barmaid shaking her head.

As they walked, the group circled them, herding them toward the woods.

Dean gave Sam a subtle look, asking if he was ready. Sam nodded back.

Once they were in the woods, the group separated, distancing themselves from them. Dean reached back and pulled out his gun at the same time Sam did.

There was a crashing sound, and Sam looked over to his right. There, standing in the shadows, was a large black dog, and it was walking straight toward him.

"Sammy, watch out!" Dean shouted. "They're all changing."

Sam swallowed and licked his lips, hands gripping the gun tightly. He fired a round and it hit its mark. The dog whined and fell to its side. He could hear Dean shooting behind him and turned around.

Dean had one dead dog at his feet and another to his side. That was three out of the five. There were two more somewhere in the shadows.

Dean could hear them circling in the darkness, and he stepped back closer to Sam, needing to know that he was safe.

There was a constant stream of growls coming from the around the trees. There was a snapping bark and then another crash. A second later, the two dogs came flying out of the trees, slamming into them before they could take aim.

The dog hit Dean hard, pinning him down as he struggled against him. Its jaws snapping just inches from his face.

Dean heard a cry from somewhere near him, and he knew it was Sam. Using all his strength he pushed the dog back enough so he could reach his silver knife. He plunged it into the creature's chest, and it fell on top of him, wheezing wet, slow breaths as it lost its struggle to survive.

There was a shot and a high whine of an animal in pain. Dean looked over at Sam, who was propped against a tree, holding his side. Dean rolled the weight of the dog off him and crawled toward Sam.

"Sam, are you all right?" Dean's hands were already going to his wounds.

Sam struggled to catch his breath. "Yeah, I think so."

"Let me take a look at your side." Dean was already kneeling in front of him.

Sam gritted his teeth against the pain. "I saw him again, Dean."

"Who?" Dean asked, hands lifting the torn material away from the gashes.

"Lucifer. Just for a second before the claw caught me. He was laughing."

* * *

AN: I have beta profile and currently I am only working on one project. If anyone has a story they want help with, contact me. Thanks, snarks


	5. Chapter 5

**Blatant Lies - Chapter Five**

Dean lifted Sam's shirt, exposing the gashes. They were rough and jagged and would be a bitch to stitch.

Dean sighed and wiped the back of his hand against his brow.

They needed to get back to the motel and get the hell out of dodge before someone started poking around asking questions, but first he needed to get Sam to the car.

"Okay, Sammy. We need to get the hell out of here, so up you come," Dean said as he threaded an arm around Sam and hoisted him to his feet.

Sam wavered for a moment but was able to get his footing.

"Did it get you anywhere else?" Dean asked already checking over Sam.

Sam shook his head. "No, I'm good. It's just the ribs."

"All right, let's get out of here then."

Dean grabbed their weapons and came back to Sam's side. "Do you need a hand?"

"I'm okay. Let's go."

They made their way to the car, and Sam got in while Dean went around to the trunk to grab the first aid kit. He found the gauze and ripped open a few packets. He brought them around front and handed them to Sam.

"Keep pressure on it, okay? It's going to be a bit before we stop to stitch it. I want to put as much distance between us and this podunk town as possible."

Dean made a quick stop at the motel to grab their things and then they were on their way.

"How you doing over there?" Dean asked.

Sam had been quiet on the ride and Dean was worried that he in pain, or worse, seeing Lucifer.

Sam looked over at him, eyes tired. He swallowed. "I'm okay."

"You sure? You don't look that great. You feeling queasy?"

Sam shook his head. "Side hurts, but other than that I'm good."

"Can you peel the gauze back quick for me? I want to see how the bleeding is."

Sam nodded and lifted his hand. The wounds stung and the gauze caught and pulled painfully, but the bleeding wasn't too bad.

"Looks okay. I think it can hold off for a bit longer. May not need stitches after all."

Sam pressed the gauze back to the wounds and leaned his head back. His mind was still reeling from having seen Lucifer. If the devil hadn't appeared and startled him, he wouldn't have been caught unawares by the skinwalker.

Dean shifted in his seat. "So… have you seen him, Lucifer I mean?"

Sam looked away, focusing on the passing scenery. "After the claws cut me, he disappeared. I think the pain made him go."

Dean drew a deep breath. There was no winning. Poor Sam couldn't catch a break. The only way he could go without the mental torture was to be in physical pain. How unfair was that?

"Well, why don't you close your eyes and get some shut eye? I'll wake you in a few hours when we reach Colorado."

Sam nodded and shifted so he was leaning against the door. He closed his eyes and let the faint roar of the Impala lull him to sleep.

Dean drove through the night until the early hours on the morning. When his eyes wouldn't stay open any longer, he pulled over at a truck stop. There was a small motel there and Dean pulled the car over to the lot.

There was a neon sign over the building flickering 24/7 Service. He made his way into the office and rang the bell. A moment later, a gum popping woman with frizzy hair came around the corner.

"What can I do you for?"

"I need a room."

"Well I've only got a single king left, and we charge by the hour, day or week. What'll you have?"

Dean grabbed his wallet. He glanced over his shoulder at the car. They really only needed a night, but a few days wouldn't go amiss. He pulled out pile of cash.

"Here's for tonight and I'll let you know if we need more."

"Sounds good, hon." The woman turned and grabbed a key from the wall. "Room eight. It's easy to find, right near the ice machine."

"Thanks," Dean said as he turned and left the office.

He walked over to the car and got in, driving over towards room eight. He parked in front of it and looked over at Sam, who was sound asleep.

He turned in his seat and lifted Sam's hand to see the gauze. There was no new blood.

He gently nudged Sam's shoulder.

"Hey, we're here."

Sam stirred and his brow furrowed. He groaned and pressed his hand to his side. "What time is it?" he asked, trying to work the kinks out of his neck.

"Late, or early, depending on how you look at it."

"We in Colorado?"

"Yep, made over the border about an hour ago. Now, those gashes still need taking care of and I'm ready to crash, so you ready to go in?"

Sam nodded and reached for the door. He was stiff and his side hurt. If it was up to him he would just curl up in the car and go back to sleep.

"Come on, big boy. Let's get you inside."

Carefully, Sam twisted in his seat and opened the door. It pulled on his side and made him wince. He pressed the gauze to his side and struggled to get to his feet.

Dean came around the front of the car and went to Sam's side. He saw how Sam was struggling and quickly went to his side. Sam was half out when he reached him. Dean slipped an arm around his waist and shouldered some of his weight, getting him all the way to his feet.

"Shit, this hurts, Dean."

Dean steadied him for a moment until he was able to stand on his own.

"You got it from here?"

"Yeah, I'm good. Thanks."

Dean nodded but stayed close in case Sam needed him.

Dean unlocked the room and they stepped inside, Dean locking the door again behind them.

Dean tossed their bags down on the small table and flipped on the lights. It was dingy and the carpet that was probably once orange shag was now threadbare in places. It was a dive but they'd had worse.

"There's only one bed," Sam pointed out as he made his way over to it. He sat down with a grimace.

Dean shrugged. "Shouldn't be a big deal, we've shared before."

Sam nodded and looked around the room. He tried not to imagine how much bacteria was probably growing on the walls alone.

Dean rummaged through the bag until he found everything he needed and then he went to Sam's side.

He knelt down in front of Sam and carefully touched his side. "How's the pain?"

"I'm okay."

Dean nodded and set the things he gathered on the nightstand. "I've got to get this shirt off you, okay?"

Sam nodded and yawned. He began to struggle to get the fabric up but Dean stopped him.

"Here, let me."

Dean gently worked the fabric up and over Sam's head, exposing his chest and stomach. The cuts looked angry and red, and Dean cursed himself for not stopping earlier to clean them.

Dean stood and grabbed the bottle of whiskey. "You're gonna want to lay down for this."

Dean helped Sam to lie back, and he even fluffed the pillow for him.

Dean got up and went into the bathroom to find a towel. Thankfully there was a shelf filled with folded ones. He grabbed one and went back to Sam.

He tucked it under the side where the cuts were. He opened the whiskey and gave Sam an apologetic look. "Do you need something to bite down on?"

Sam shook his head. "Just do it."

Dean nodded and with a shaky hand he poured the amber liquid over the wounds.

The pain hit Sam hard, and he gritted his teeth. This wasn't like the pain of cutting; he had no control over this.

"Shit," Sam hissed. "Burns."

Dean looked down at Sam sympathetically. "I didn't get them all."

Sam blinked at Dean through teary eyes. "It's okay, just do it."

Dean swallowed hard and nodded. He knew he had to do this but hurting Sam was something he never wanted to do. "I'll make it quick." Dean tipped the bottle again and Sam cried out. Dean flinched at the sound.

"There, all done." Dean patted the site with the edge of the towel. "Just let me bandage them up and you'll be good."

Dean grabbed the gauze and tape. He quickly bandaged the gashes.

Sam's eyes had fallen closed listening to the sound of Dean working. Even though he was in pain, he was content. Lucifer couldn't come to him when he was in pain. It was just him and Dean and that's all that mattered.

"Hey, Sammy," Dean's voice came from beside him. "I need to check on the stiches before we crash."

"M'kay," Sam said sleepily, raising his hips.

"Oh, I see how it is, I get to do all the work," Dean chuckled.

"Yep." Sam smiled lazily.

Dean shook his head but reached for the button on Sam's pants. He quickly undid them and shimmied them down and off, leaving Sam in his boxers.

Dean peeled back the tape and lifted the gauze. They looked good. They would be able to come out soon. He tossed the old bandage and quickly redressed it.

By the time he was done, Sam was snoring quietly, sound asleep.

Dean smiled at him.

He hated to wake him up again, but it was cool and Sam was on the wrong side of the covers.

"Come on, you big sasquatch," Dean said, peeling the covers back on one side of the bed. "Time to get into bed."

Sam grumbled, "I am in bed. "

Dean chuckled and walked over the other side of the bed. He gently nudged Sam.

Sam made a noise close to a growl and then rolled carefully to the other side of the bed. "You suck."

Dean smiled. "Go to sleep, Princess."

Sam raised his hand, flipping Dean off. Dean laughed. "Maybe later."

Dean covered up Sam and then kicked off his boots and jeans, climbing into bed.

Dean was woken sometime hours later by the sound of someone whimpering. Dean blinked and looked over at Sam's sleeping form. His hands were in fists and his neck corded with strain. Dean could see the hard set of his jaw. Whatever Sam was dreaming about it was painful.

Dean propped himself up on an elbow. He began to make quiet soothing noises and scooted closer to him in the bed. Moving slowly, he placed a hand gently on Sam's shoulder, rubbing his thumb back and forth.

"It's okay, Sammy. You can wake up now."

Sam's eyes squeezed tight and he arched his back. "No!"

Dean's heart contracted painfully. He could only imagine the monsters that haunted his brother's dreams. He wished he could go back and kill the man who'd hurt him again, but he took solace in knowing that the death he delivered was a painful one. His years in hell at the rack ensured that.

Dean moved his hand to Sam's chest. It was damp with sweat and he could feel his heart pounding beneath his hand.

"It's okay, Sam. I'm here. Wake up for me."

Sam's brow furrowed and he blinked his eyes open. A tear ran down his cheek. "Dean?"

Dean reached over and brushed the hair out of Sam's eyes. "I'm right here; I'm not going anywhere, okay."

Sam nodded.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Sam licked at his lips and swallowed. "I don't think you want to know."

"Was it bad?"

Sam looked down at the bed. "Yeah, it was."

Dean bit his lip. "You don't need to go through this alone, Sam. You can talk to me."

"It's not that I don't want to talk about it, I just don't know where to begin."

"Start with who were you dreaming about?"

Sam picked at the skin by his nail. "Lucifer."

Dean placed his hand over Sam's, stopping him from hurting himself further. "What was he doing to you?"

Dean really didn't want to hear it, but he knew Sam needed to say it. Dean had been in hell enough to know what made people buck and scream in pain. He hated thinking that any of those things could have happened to Sam.

Dean ran his thumb across the back of Sam's hand. "Do you want to talk about it later?"

Sam chewed on his lip. "I think the worst part of it is that I know it's not a dream. They're memories."

Dean sucked in a breath and gave Sam's hand a squeeze.

A tear trickled down Sam's cheek. "He would call me his bitch… and I guess I was."

"Sam…" Dean worst fears were coming to fruition. It was something he had always suspected happened in Hell, but hearing it was a different matter.

"I'm dirty, Dean," Sam whispered.

That got Dean's attention more than anything else.

"Sam, look at me," Dean commanded, reaching up and grabbing Sam's chin. "Don't you ever say that. You're not dirty."

"But it's the truth, Dean, and you know it."

Dean shook his head. "No, it's not." He gently ran his thumb over Sam's lips. "And I don't want to hear that word come across your lips again. Just trust me when I say it, Sam, you're not dirty."

* * *

AN: So if you haven't guessed it, my muse is leading me in a new direction: wincest. Sorry, but it just seems to be leading there. I know I may lose some readers, but I have to follow my heart. There won't be anything graphic in this though as I would rather get a root canal than write sex scenes. It just is what it is. Thank you all for being so lovely. I appreciate you all. Love, snarks


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